


We're Okay

by juiceboxjellyfish



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Is Soft, Bedsharing, Blushing, Crowley is cuddly, Cuddling, First Kiss, Fluff, Hugging, I cried a little writing it, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kissing, M/M, Other, Quote: We're On Our Own Side (Good Omens), Quote: You can stay at my place (Good Omens), Tenderness, post-armageddon't, this is so fluffy and tender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-16 14:04:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20834432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juiceboxjellyfish/pseuds/juiceboxjellyfish
Summary: Aziraphale stays at Crowley's place after armageddon't and they both conveniently "forget" that they could easily make another bed appear and not have to share. Fluff ensues.Or, as LassieLowrider so eloquently put it: oh no there's only. one bed. and y'all can't just. miracle one up. oh no. whatever are u gonna do. guess u gotta... share it





	We're Okay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LassieLowrider](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LassieLowrider/gifts).

Much to the dismay of almost all of its passengers, the Oxford bus approached London. The only people who weren't immensely puzzled by this were the bus driver (who didn’t seem to be aware it was happening), an angel and a demon. Of course, the other passengers did not know the pair were celestial beings and just assumed that they, much like the bus driver, were blissfully unaware of the situation. They were not. The whole thing was in fact their fault. Though, had it not been, they honestly might not have noticed. The things they’d seen that day would be enough to keep anyone feeling distracted for a fortnight. And then there were the hands. Neither of them said anything about the fact that they were holding hands – it had happened wordlessly and they were both afraid the other would let go if they mentioned it – but it was the only thing on both of their minds. Hands can be awfully distracting. 

The bus slowed to its first stop since Aziraphale and Crowley got on and the odd pair stepped out into the night. There was nothing remarkable about it (the night, that is). It was dark, partly cloudy, and pleasantly cool, which are all fairly normal qualities of a late summer night. What made this night an important one was the fact that it existed at all, which truly was remarkable considering the circumstances. Aziraphale noticed the stars. He’d spent the last few millennia under these stars, and had never been as grateful to see them as he was in that moment. He thought of Crowley’s panicked suggestion to flee there together, and then he noticed how the streetlights set fire to Crowley’s hair, and he felt his face heat up. Crowley noticed none of this, for he couldn’t seem to stop noticing Aziraphale’s hand in his own. 

They had let go of each other by the time they reached Crowley’s door – hand holding makes it considerably more difficult to climb narrow apartment building staircases – but Aziraphale’s palm was still buzzing from the touch. He had initiated it and in no way regretted doing so, but that did not make it any less overwhelming. Considering how long he and Crowley had known each other, there had been very little physical contact between the two of them. (Too little, in Crowley’s opinion. And Aziraphale’s, though he had taken longer to admit it.) Crowley pushed the door open.

“Welcome, angel, to my apartment”, he exclaimed, throwing his arm out with a sweeping motion as if he was presenting something marvellous. 

“It’s a mess”, Aziraphale stated. 

“Yeah, I left in a bit of a hurry”, the demon frowned. “Hold on, let me just…” He snapped his fingers, causing what looked horrifyingly like the remains of another demon to vanish. 

“Much better.”

With the disturbing distraction gone, it suddenly dawned on Aziraphale that he was standing in Crowley’s apartment. This was where Crowley _lived_, and Aziraphale was there. Sure, the demon visited Aziraphale's bookshop all the time, but that was… well, a shop. Shops are meant to be visited. (Generally speaking. Aziraphale did his best to keep visitors out of his shop, but he was aware this was not the norm.) This was different. This was a home. This was… intimate. The angel tried not to blush and it worked about as well as all the other times he had tried it, which is to say it didn’t work at all. Crowley shut the door and stepped in front of Aziraphale.

“Well I don’t know about you, but I am _exhausted_. You can do what you want but I’m going to bed”, he declared, taking a few more steps into the room. 

“Going to bed sounds perfect, actually”, Aziraphale admitted. He didn’t sleep as often as Crowley but averting the apocalypse is tiring work and besides, he felt no desire to just sit around in the demon’s apartment while he slept. 

“Great! I’ll just-“ Crowley froze mid-sentence. He only had one bed. (Why would he have more? He was only one person after all.) He allowed himself to briefly imagine sharing it with the angel and felt the blood rush to his face. “Damn this body”, he thought, which was redundant. Both he and his body were damned enough already. It wasn’t until he reached that part of his thought process that he remembered he was a demon and could make another bed appear out of thin air if he wanted to.

He did not want to.

He remembered how Aziraphale’s hand felt in his, how it had made it him feel like he was glowing. He though about how long he’d spent trying to get close to the angel. He remembered that Aziraphale was the one who had decided to take his hand, and he decided it was worth a shot. Maybe Aziraphale would conveniently forget about the whole miracle thing, just for a few hours.

“Sorry angel, I just realised… I’ve only got one bed.”

Aziraphale’s heart skipped a beat and then started racing to make up for it. (An angel’s heartbeat is of course almost entirely arbitrary, as their existence is not dependant on their body, but the body doesn’t know that, so it still acts like any human body would.) He allowed himself to briefly imagine sharing a bed with the demon and once again failed not to blush. 

“Oh”, he responded. He could see a sofa in the next room. 

“I suppose we’ll have to share then.”

Crowley swallowed.

“I guess so, yeah.”

They stood there in silence a little longer than what would’ve been natural, both trying their best not to look at the other.

“Right” Crowley stated. “I’ll go change. I, uh… I don’t have any pyjamas that would fit you, so, um-“

“That’s alright”, Aziraphale interrupted, and with a flick of his wrist his clothes were replaced by tartan pyjama pants and a soft t-shirt. “I am an angel after all.”

Aziraphale always looked soft. (Correction: Crowley always felt soft when he looked at Aziraphale.) After six thousand years of looking at and thinking about the angel, Crowley thought he could handle it (or at least he thought he knew how to cope). He was wrong. For a moment he thought he was going to discorporate but he was wrong about this too, which was probably for the best considering his current relationship with hell. Instead of discorporating, the demon found himself once again frozen in place, staring at the angel. 

“So, where’s the bedroom?”

Incapable of speaking, Crowley mumbled something unintelligible and made a vague gesture in the direction of the room. Suddenly he had a much greater understanding of Aziraphale’s mindset back in 1967, because a voice in his head was screaming “too fast, too fast, too fast”.

Aziraphale’s world was upside down. The Great Plan had been changed, armageddon had been prevented, and it was at least partially because of him. He had defied heaven and in doing so realised that he’d been defying heaven in tiny ways for as long as he’d been on earth. Was he going to fall? He hadn’t fallen yet. Maybe there was no point in making him fall – hell would hardly want him either. Crowley was right. They didn’t have sides anymore, they were on their own side now. They had been for a while. 

Aziraphale’s world was upside down, and Crowley was the only constant.

Aziraphale would’ve teased Crowley about his all-black bedding and his black silk pyjamas. He would’ve said something along the lines of “oh, do you always have to be such a cliché?”. He would’ve sighed and rolled his eyes – if Crowley hadn’t looked so good. Something about the pyjamas, the fact that he wasn’t wearing his sunglasses, and the context of a bedroom made him appear softer than usual. 

Crowley’s bed was big enough for two people. He was passionate about sleeping and had therefore concluded that he needed a king sized bed, despite only being one person. Both he and Aziraphale fit comfortably in the bed and there was a reasonable gap between them.

Crowley’s bed was too big. 

“Goodnight then, angel”, Crowley said, more to the ceiling than to Aziraphale. Crowley wasn’t consciously aware of it, but he was afraid that facing him would be too much. 

“Thank you for letting me stay”, Aziraphale responded.

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

“No, I’m serious.”

Crowley rolled over to his side and found Aziraphale facing him, his blue eyes fixed on the demon.

“Crowley. Thank you. My bookshop burned down, I got both heaven and hell mad at me, and I have no idea what’s going to happen now, but whatever it is, at least I’ll have you.”

Crowley found the angel’s hand under the cover and took it, squeezing it gently. 

“Of course you will. We’re on our own side, remember?”

Aziraphale smiled softly.

“Yes, I suppose we are.” 

He pulled Crowley’s hand close to his chest and watched his eyes widen. Aziraphale loved Crowley’s eyes. He loved them when they were wide and snakelike and almost entirely yellow and he loved them when they were nearly human. He’d never allowed himself to spend this long looking at them before (he hadn’t had a lot of chances, since Crowley almost always wore sunglasses) and the fact that Crowley wasn’t looking away made his heart ache. He squeezed his hand, pressing it to his chest. Crowley felt as if his blood had been drained and replaced with pure light, and decided that the distance between them was far too wide. As he pulled himself closer, he felt the angel’s heartbeat speed up against the back of his hand. 

“Is this okay?”, he murmured. Aziraphale nodded, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, they were shiny with tears.

“Angel?”

Aziraphale responded by burying his face in Crowley’s neck, and an invisible barrier that had spent the last few centuries slowly crumbling finally collapsed. Crowley wrapped his arms around him and pulled him even closer. They lay there silently for a while, taking in each other’s presence.

“I was so scared of this”, Aziraphale whispered, lifting his head to look at the demon. “I thought it would doom me.” 

Crowley wiped a tear from the angel’s cheek. 

“It’s okay. We’re okay”, he said, his hand still cupping Aziraphale’s face. 

“We’re okay”, Aziraphale breathed. “We’re okay”, he repeated, and couldn’t help but smile. He grabbed Crowley’s neck and closed the distance between their lips.

In that moment they were one, and they were made of light. 

Aziraphale pulled away and Crowley blinked at him, wide-eyed and breathless. 

“Is this okay?”, Aziraphale asked. Crowley pulled him into another kiss.

The sun rose, marking the beginning of a day that was never supposed to be. It shone on duck ponds, their surface glittering in the light, it shone on park benches and restaurants and cottages, it shone on cars and roads and bookshops that were no longer burning (and appeared to never have burned at all) and through a window, it shone on an angel sleeping peacefully in the arms of a demon. The demon was awake, but was laying perfectly still so as not to disturb the other’s sleep. He didn't mind; in fact he was quite enjoying the idea of staying there until the next time someone tried to end the world. He’d spent six millennia staring at Aziraphale, but it had always been something he’d done in secret. From a distance. Through his sunglasses. When the angel wasn’t looking… never like this. Crowley always thought Aziraphale looked soft, and now he knew he felt soft as well. Soft and warm and safe. The sunlight that was pouring in through the window warmed the angel’s hair and made it glow perfectly white, and Crowley absentmindedly played with the curls at the nape of his neck. His eyes fluttered open, and he smiled lazily when he saw the demon. 

“Good morning”, he murmured.

“Good morning angel”, Crowley grinned. He smiled with his whole face and his eyes lit up, gleaming like gold in the sunlight.

“You should never wear sunglasses”, Aziraphale sighed. This earned a chuckle from the demon.

“Oh, shouldn’t I?” 

Aziraphale shook his head as well as he could without lifting it from the pillow, and this time he didn’t bother trying not to blush. Crowley kissed his cheek.

“You know”, Aziraphale said, tying his bowtie “maybe it’s a good thing the bookshop burned down. Or this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Yeah, maybe” Crowley responded, and then paused. “I could’ve miracled up another bed, though.”

Aziraphale turned away from the mirror to face him. 

“So could I.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
If you liked it, please leave a comment! I read all of them, they make my day, and they encourage me to write more stuff so it's a win/win situation!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [I can't face this life alone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20879006) by [LassieLowrider](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LassieLowrider/pseuds/LassieLowrider)


End file.
